


A Blade of Grass

by JaguarMirror



Series: Glass Bead Universe [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Humor, M/M, No Angst, Shameless Smut, really shameless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25799491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaguarMirror/pseuds/JaguarMirror
Summary: Mathias Shaw handed Flynn Fairwind a blade of grass and told him to be at the Gilded Rose.  This is MY version of what happened that evening.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Series: Glass Bead Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1916869
Comments: 5
Kudos: 78





	A Blade of Grass

Mathias Shaw shifted deeper into the shadows beside the front door of the Gilded Rose Inn and steeled himself for a long wait. Flynn Fairwind, would probably be late for their meeting here at the Gilded Rose and would probably be drunk -- but the pirate was the kind of man who always kept his promises. The trouble was not so much in his keeping promises but rather in how he decided to keep that promise. This time time their meeting wasn't going to involve storms or explosives or or evil floating tiki masks or weapons or Zandalari zealots -- at least Shaw fervently hoped it wouldn't. 

On the other hand, it was technically impossible for Flynn to be late to the meeting. His last words to Flynn were"Meet me tonight - don't be late", and then he turned to deal with Lord Admiral Jaina Proudmoore and King Anduin Wrynn -- and Sira Moonwarden. And in that moment, he also forgot to mention an all-important detail to tell Flynn -- what time to be at the Gilded Rose. 

It had not been, Shaw admitted to himself, one of his finest hours. 

The next detail that he hadn't fully thought through was what, exactly he was going to talk to Flynn about. The real reason ... "because you smell like whiskey and salt and soap and freedom I want you to spend the weekend with me in a little cabin in the hills and I'm not going to let you get out of bed ..." made for an awkward opening. Flynn seemed interested in him, but Flynn had a long history of relationships with exotic people and it was possible that he thought of Shaw only as a reliable contract employer. Asking the pirate about the Zandalari seemed to be the best idea; he could pretend that it was a debriefing then steer the conversation towards a short trip for ... fishing or something before they went back to Boralus. And things could progress along that line once they got to the privacy of the little cabin.

It would have been much easier if Flynn was simply a target for a mission-based seduction: smile at him, buy him a few drinks, slip a mild aphrodisiac in his drink, and let chemistry lead the way. But that was a lousy way to start a relationship -- and Shaw wasn't even sure that he knew how to start one. He'd spent a lifetime holding other people at arms length. But as Valeera reminded him, happiness is a fleeting thing and taking things slowly meant that another crisis would crop up while he was being careful, and all his progress would be lost in a maze of assignments and missions. Time to stop being careful and start being strategic.

He glanced at the sky -- it was nearly sunset. He slid a small flagon out of one of his inner pockets and took a drink and shifted back into stealth mode as he leaned against the building . Patience was something you developed as a rogue... or a spy. The trick was to not get too bored while you waited. So he watched the flow of customers wandering in and out of the Gilded Rose and others collecting mail from the mailbox and went over his carefully laid plans. His grandmother always said that drink brought out unexpected truths. Hopefully it wouldn't take a full cask of moonwine to seduce the Kul Tirian. 

"Thanks, mate." Flynn's voice... but from inside the inn. "Won't be long. Got to see a man about a mailbox."

Shaw blinked at the realization that the pirate had solved the issue of when to show up for the meeting by simply going to the inn and waiting, making sure he got there before sundown. The crowd at the door shuffled aside as Flynn, mug in hand, rambled out the door. He looked around and then chose his spot, leaning casually against the mailbox, where he had a good view of the square, giving Shaw a very nice view of strong shoulders and well-muscled backside. 

This was not part of Plan A. Shaw eased behind him, close enough that he could almost feel the warmth of Flynn's body. A part of his mind insisted that there should be a Plan B but his libido was more interested in other things. Surely it wouldn't hurt to stand silently, just within touching distance, for the space of a few heartbeats. 

Flynn took a sip of his drink and then reached in his pocket and pulled out the blade of grass that Shaw had given him a few hours earlier, studying it carefully, running his fingers lightly over the green blade, stroking its length; a carelessly erotic movement. 

Impulse moved Mathias Shaw. He bent down and pulled a long blade of grass from the scraggly greenery in the planter in front of the inn. He wound it around his own drinking flask and dropped it into Flynn's pocket with just enough force that the pirate would feel a slight tug. Flynn straightened at that and turned and glared around him as if looking for a pickpocket. After a moment he patted his pocket and froze as his fingers touched the bottle. 

"Something new has been added," he murmured as he pulled it out. He gave a lazy smile and slowly ran his finger over the mouth of the flask. " Been a long day," he announced to no one in particular. "Think I'll go back to my room." 

Flynn ambled into the inn, wobbling slightly as if he was drunk. He weaved around a chair, gave a flirty bow to the innkeeper, and stumbled up the stairs, leaving the door to his room open for a few seconds as he fumbled in his pocket for something. Then he stepped briskly into the room and nudged the door shut with a toe. "And now one of us has the other one right where they wanted him," he said with a slight smirk. "But which one?"

There was no answer. He frowned at the room. "At least, I hope one of us has the other where he wants him. Otherwise I'm just standing here, talking to thin air like an utter fool."

Shaw grinned and emerged from the shadows. "Yes to the first, and... I'm not so sure about the second."

"Someone's Mister Cheeky tonight." 

"That'd be you, Fairwind."

Flynn held the bottle and grass toward him. "So what's this all about? Lawn care? Secret Brewfest recipe? Desperate shortage of gryphon nesting materials?"

"An offer."

Flynn arched an eyebrow. "An offer?" He removed his leather coat and draped it carefully across the back of a wooden chair. "From... the crown? The Proudmoores? Wyrmbane? Not sure I'd take him up on it, but I'd listen."

"From me."

He settled into the chair and stretched his long legs in front of him. "What kind of offer?"

"There's a cabin south of here, in the mountains near a lake."

"There's a lot of that kind of thing around here, I've noticed."

Shaw tried to ignore the banter. "And it's quiet. Nobody around."

"Enforced isolation. Right. Nobody to hear you scream for help."

The problem in dealing with Flynn Fairwind was that he wouldn't stay quiet and any plan you made fell apart the minute he opened his mouth. It was possible, Shaw thought, that you could get a conversation to go as you wanted if you tied the man up and stuffed a gag in his mouth, but neither of those options were at hand. He tried to steer things back onto the path he'd planned. "Would you like to spend the week there? With me?" 

He mentally winced. This didn't come out as intended. He gritted his teeth and started another tack. "I meant..."

Flynn smiled as he set his drink on the table, folded his hands on his lap and stared at him with hooded eyes. "So the 'be here, promptly' was just a lead-in to 'Flynn, you look like you need a vacation'?"

Blast. "No..."

"Flynn, you're in desperate need of a fishie?"

Shaw began to reconsider the earlier aphrodisiacs and gag idea. "No. It's..."

Flynn rose abruptly, moving to him in a swift motion. "Do you know what the difference is between rogues and pirates?" He was close now; so close that Shaw could smell the heady scent of whiskey and salt and see the dancing flecks of gold in his blue-gray eyes. "Rogues and spies always try the subtle approach. A pirate ....

They were face to face now, only a shadow apart but Flynn leaned in even closer. "...a pirate takes what he wants," he whispered. And with that, he put his hands on either side of Mathias Shaw's face and pulled him into a kiss, warm and deep.

Shaw froze, startled, for a mere fraction of a second as the kiss deepened. Thumbs traced the lines of his face. The world wheeled to a pinpoint of fire, and time seemed to stop and he closed his eyes and leaned in, mouth seeking mouth, feeling the odd and erotic brush of whiskers and mustache tickling against the corners of his mouth, tasting -- not whiskey but honeymint tea. Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him close and he wondered whose heart he felt hammering against his ribs. Hips thrust against his belly and he shuddered at the friction of cloth across his erection and busy hands pulled his shirt free, unbuckled his belt, and unlaced his trousers. He grabbed a double handful of Flynn's shirt and pulled upwards, suddenly desperate for the feel of bare skin. 

Somehow they managed to make it to the bed, mostly unclothed, 

He wanted to pause for a moment, to tell Flynn that this one time wasn't going to obligate him to a week or a month or a lifetime, but their urgency was too deep for words as they thrust against each other. There was no finesse, only rutting, hard and raw, as he pinned Flynn to the bed and rocked his hips hard against that warm, flat belly, trapping their cocks between them. Flynn panted, soft grunts as he slipped his hand between their bodies and gripped both their cocks with his hand and began pumping vigorously. 

He arched his body, allowing space for that busy fist. He wanted to say things, how he'd take things slow next time if Flynn wanted him; to take time to explore and to give his lover pleasure. How he'd be willing to take months and years to learn to be with someone because he wanted to take a chance at something more -- but need drove him hard. And then the heat that had been building up became a fire, became white hot pleasure and he climaxed with a soft moan, collapsing onto Flynn's chest as the other bucked and whimpered and then suddenly flooded the space between them with his own semen.

And then it was done. Silence like velvet folded around them as night wrapped the city in its arms. Shaw rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, breathless and boneless, drifting and content. There were still so many unanswered questions and unsaid things, but this was sufficient for this moment.

Flynn buried his nose against his shoulder and slid a leg over his groin. 

"About your cabin in the woods," Flynn said suddenly. "I have a better idea." Shaw rolled his eyes. Apparently sex made the man feel chatty. No, scratch that. EVERYTHING made the man feel chatty. 

"Mmm?" It was a mistake to encourage him; Shaw knew it was a mistake, even as those calloused fingertips traced a line from his collarbone down to his belly. His cock twitched briefly and Flynn's hand circled it, sliding his thumb along the top, smearing the wetness around the slit. 

Flynn nuzzled the hollow of his neck and then began nibbling lightly at his earlobe "You see, if we go off to your cabin, someone's got to get up and get food or we'll starve to death and it will be right embarrassing when the king's guardsmen come to find you and we're all skinny and naked and dead. But if we stay right here in my room, we can send off for food. Because I don't intend to let you out of my bed for a week. Maybe two."

"Hmm." Actually, it was a very good suggestion. There were some flaws in the plan, but they could probably be worked out. "Maybe."

"How long did you tell them you'd be gone?" 

A quick flick of the tongue inside his ear sent shivers down his back. "Didn't say," was all he could manage. 

Lips nibbled along the hollow of his neck, then began slowly working their way down his body. "Perfect. I'll send the king a note. Tell him you've been captured by a very naughty pirate and you'll be back in a month. No, two months."

"No."

"If he sends a ransom, we'll send him a Winter Veil present." His tongue found Mathias' navel.

"Nnngh."

"I hear Stormwind's lovely in January."


End file.
